


Retirement is a Four Letter Word

by kiss_me_cassie



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: But Not His Ready-Made Family, Clint Barton's Farm, F/M, Future Fic, Minor Young Avengers, Not Avengers: Age of Ultron (Movie) Compliant, Post-Avengers (2012), Retirement
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-25
Updated: 2017-01-25
Packaged: 2018-09-19 22:26:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,766
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9462983
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kiss_me_cassie/pseuds/kiss_me_cassie
Summary: Living in Iowa was great, but sometimes Clint wished it was a little more exciting around the farm.





	

**Author's Note:**

> PG13 for some bad language. Because I have trouble imagining hardened ex-assassins and ex-SHIELD Agents never cursing. Everything else is pretty tame.
> 
> More thanks than I can ever give to [halcyon_autumn](http://archiveofourown.org/users/halcyon_autumn) and [meatball42](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Meatball42) for the corrections and feedback. Any existing errors are all mine.

Clint woke up alone. He reached out an arm to Natasha's side of the bed to find it not only empty, but already cool as well. She must've been up for a while. Clint figured that meant it was well past time for him to get himself up for the day, too. He was getting lazy in his retirement.

With a groan, he sat up and swung his legs over the side of the bed, the muscles in his back protesting as he stretched. Christ, but he was getting old. Meanwhile, Natasha was still as graceful and agile as she'd been when he'd met her over twenty years ago, despite the little laugh lines that had start forming around her eyes. 

Twenty years. Had it really been that long? 

He stretched again, staring at the ugly cabbage rose wallpaper on the wall opposite him and thinking for maybe the millionth time how they really needed to do something about it sooner rather than later. But there was always something around this old place that needed attention more: the rusting tin roof on the barn, the rickety back steps, the kitchen which was straight out of the 1930s and probably would have been a dream come true for Cap...

That was part of the problem with owning an old house; it was _old_ , and that meant constantly having to repair and remodel. Wallpaper removal seemed like the least important thing, so they were constantly putting it off.

Maybe he'd talk to Nat and see if they could finally get around to it this week.

After pulling a pair of jeans on over his boxers and grabbing some socks, Clint plodded down to the kitchen, grateful that Natasha had gotten the coffee started and left a nearly full pot waiting for him. With another groan (honestly, when had _that_ muscle started twinging?) he pulled a mug out of the cabinet and poured himself a cup of coffee before settling down at the table and pulling the newspaper towards him. 

That was when he realized he'd left his reading glasses upstairs again. 

Clint sighed, thinking not for the first time that he should just be thankful his long range sight hadn't wavered due to age. 

Reluctantly, he got up to make the trek back upstairs when he noticed a familiar purple glasses case propped up on the counter near the coffee maker. 

Nat again. Was he really that predictable? Thinking about it, he probably was, another side effect of getting older and retiring. 

Or maybe it was simply her ability to anticipate his needs. They'd spent years on and off the field honing their non-verbal communication skills. It stood to reason that they'd still be sharp as ever even now.

With a rueful smile, he grabbed the case and sat back down, putting his glasses on and shaking out the front section of the paper. _The Register_ never had the most exciting news in it, but that was one of its draws. Hell, that was one of the biggest draws about the whole damn state. What self-respecting mad scientist or alien invasion would choose Iowa as it's main target?

Yeah, living in Iowa was great, but sometimes he still wished it was a little more exciting around the farm.

A while later, coffee gone and paper read, he glanced at the clock and wondered where Natasha was. He checked his phone to see if she'd texted (she hadn't) then decided he might as well get started working on the tractor. It had started making some choking noises lately and he knew Nat was hoping to plow out an area for a vegetable garden this spring. Best to check into it now instead of finding out at the last minute that the damned machine wouldn't work.

Snagging a jacket and ball cap from the hook by the back door, Clint wandered out onto the porch and looked around the property, taking in a deep breath of fresh air as he did. 

That's when the nearly silent arrow whizzed past his head and embedded itself in the porch post next to him. 

Who the fuck was shooting at him?

This wasn't what he'd meant when he'd wished for more excitement. He'd meant a call from New York to look into the history of a shady weapons trafficker, or an easy surveillance job in some tropical locale, like Hawaii. He hadn't meant an ambush. 

Avoiding crap like this is why they'd moved to Iowa in the first place. It was why they had made their whereabouts known to only a select few. They were getting too old for this shit; _he_ was getting too old for this shit. But apparently not too old that someone hadn't managed to track him down and make a play to incapacitate him.

Ignoring his protesting muscles, Clint ducked and took cover by the stool near the door as another arrow struck, this time in the door frame. He scanned the area for his attacker. Not seeing anyone, he crept back into the house and headed for the pantry where they kept the foot locker full of weapons.

For half a second he considered grabbing one of the guns, but in the end he took down one of the bows hanging on the wall and snatched up a handful of arrows to go with it. At the last minute, he decided to grab one of the pistols too, pausing to quickly load it before tucking it into the waistband of his jeans. 

He had no idea what he was dealing with or how many assailants. If Nat came back in the middle of this (whatever the hell _this_ was) he wanted to be sure she had a weapon at hand. And if she didn't and he was on his own against multiple attackers, he wanted to be sure to have enough firepower to use as backup.

With a renewed sense of energy and purpose, he made his way back to the door, glancing outside to see if he could spot the unknown archer. 

Nothing.

His eyes immediately went to the abandoned arrow stuck in the post and he followed the trajectory. It must have come from the loft in the barn. That was one of the few places the assailant could have made the shot without detection.

Bow up, arrow nocked, he quickly and quietly zigzagged his way across the yard. When he reached the barn door, he kicked it open and scanned the dim interior, stopping short when he spotted the two figures just inside.

Straightening, he lowered his bow and scowled. 

"What the fuck, Natasha?" he exclaimed.

Natasha barely blinked at his wrath.

"Kate, meet Hawkeye. Clint, Kate," Natasha said, nodding towards the person beside her. 

Clint spared a brief glance at the slim, dark-haired girl then trained his laser focus on Natasha. 

"The person who just shot at me?" Natasha nodded and he blew out an exasperated breath. "So I'll ask again… _what the fuck_?"

Nat chewed at her lip, considering her answer. "Maria sent her."

Everything started clicking into place and he frowned. "You knew she was coming before this morning."

"Yesterday."

"That phone call you didn't want to talk about."

She didn't back down at his steely tone. "Yes."

In his peripheral vision, he noticed the girl watching them intently, her gaze pinballing back and forth between them.

"Why?" he asked, his eyes steady on Natasha's.

As soon as he asked the question the tension in her shoulders eased a fraction and she relaxed her stance the slightest bit.

"I wanted you to see what she could do without any preconceived notions."

He nodded ever so slightly and looked at the girl more closely. Plenty of attitude in her; the tilt of her chin indicated she wasn't the type to back down from a challenge. But the biggest tell of all was the way she held her bow, down at her side but still ready to let an arrow fly at a moment's notice.

He shifted his attention back to Natasha. "So now I've seen."

He didn't ask why it was so important that he notice how good she was. He knew how both Maria and Natasha operated and could guess their intentions; they were setting him up to mentor her. For what purpose, he still wasn't entirely clear, but that was it in a nutshell.

Natasha filled in the blanks for him.

"Seems Kate got herself into some trouble and then got tangled up in an Avengers operation. Maria was impressed, thinks she could be an asset to the team." She paused a moment. "But she also thinks Kate lacks discipline."

That got an annoyed protest from the girl and a dry laugh from Clint.

"Hill thinks we'd be a good choice for teaching her discipline?"

Natasha shrugged. "Would you rather it be Stark? Besides, no one else can handle a bow as well as you do."

He nodded in acknowledgement. While the show outside had been impressive, it had also lacked a certain finesse. The girl needed someone to help her hone her skills. He was the only one who could to do it.

Clint sighed, knowing that it was a lost cause to say no. Hell, it had been a lost cause long before he'd even known of the other archer's existence. Natasha and Hill had made sure of that.

"So I guess my plan to strip the wallpaper in the bedroom is shot to hell?" he asked.

Natasha shot him an amused look. "That was your plan for the week?" 

Clint shrugged. "That and the tractor."

"You're getting old," she teased, as if he needed any more reminders. "And complacent. You need more to do."

He ran a hand across the back of his neck and sighed. "I know."

Natasha sobered a little, then offered him a wry smile and gestured toward the girl. "Having Kate here will help."

The girl made another noise of protest and they both looked over to find her frowning in annoyance at them. 

"I don't know what Ms. Hill told you about me, but I'm not a child to be -"

Clint smiled, a genuine smile this time, and held out a hand to her.

" _Ms. Hill_ \- generally known around these parts as just Hill or occasionally Maria - didn't tell _me_ anything," he said. "But it looks like I'm going to be training you for the foreseeable future."

"Training me?" Her eyes were wide as she reached out to clasp his hand.

He nodded. "Nice to meet you, Kate. Welcome to the farm."


End file.
